Love So Unreal
by C. Mage
Summary: This story takes place after the events of the game UNREAL 2: The Awakening, and a new threat comes from a plot to use a new technology not only against the Skaarj, but the human race as well...
1. Default Chapter

**Love So Unreal - Operation: ****PHOENIX******

**By C. Mage**

"How about another one?"

Aaron Ridge looked up  from his seat at the Officer's Club.  One of the Marines three seats away was getting drunk, completely and totally ripped.  "Pal, don't you think you've had enough already?"

"Notta chance…I got one left in me…" he slurred, raising the shot glass one more time.  "This one's for you, Isaak.  Best damn tech in the galaxy, kept me alive through shit I couldn't _begin_ to describe.  This is for you, buddy…"  He drank it down noisily, then slammed the glass down on the bartop.

"John, come on, man, you're getting re-assigned in a week.  You don't want to blow your first year as a reinstated Marine by screwing up now.  Come on, pal…"  Another Marine, Hansem, helped John move to his feet.  

Aaron sat there for a few more seconds, then sighed.  "Christ…"  He stood up and dropped some bills on the fake wood of the bar, then walked over to John's other side.  "I got this side."

Hansem smiled.  "_Semper__ Fi._"

"What's he getting so blasted for?"

"Long story."

"I got time."

"Jesus…Hawkins was behind the whole thing?"

"Yeah, but keep it on the low, man.  You don't want to go around spilling your guts about something like this.  Be a sure way to get yourself reassigned to some backwater detail watching your Assault Rifle rust."

Aaron looked at John, passed out on the couch in his quarters.  "Imagine losing your crew like that…what about the Slug?"

"Ne'Ban?  His people are throwing a real fit over losing one of the Royal Family like that.  He may not exactly have been a shoo-in for the throne, but blood's thicker than water.  His folks aren't satisfied with what happened.  I hear tell they went over the tapes for weeks, suggesting the idea that Hawkins killed them all later, after the _Atlantis_ broke apart.  They want the remains back."

"Anyone know anything about what happened?"

"Nope.  But you know someone does.  Ne'Ban might not have been a combatant, but Isaak was still a Marine.  That kind of training just doesn't go away.  And Aida…hell, she was one of their spooks.  Probably knew more ways to kill someone than there are ways to die."

"I know…believe me, I know."

Hansem stopped.  "Holy shit.  You knew her??"

"Yeah…I was with her on Taiko."

"How well did you know her?"

"Enough to pin your nose to the back of your skull if you push it any more, _Corporal._"

"You mean…damn, Aaron, I didn't know."

"Nobody knew.  That was Aida."

"You two broke up?  When?"

"……Taiko."

"What happened?"

"She left me, couldn't handle the idea that I still wanted to be a Marine even after Taiko.  I pulled her ass out of there and she dumped me.  Never saw her again."

"Damn…look, I gotta be on duty in a few hours.  John going to be okay here?"

"Yeah, I'll get him back to his room."

"Thanks."

"Sure."  Aaron stood up.  "Oh, one more thing."

Hansem turned around and suddenly felt as if someone hit him in the gut with a shotgun.  He fell back, dropping to the floor and looking up, trying to get his wind back.

"_That's_ for asking me about Taiko."

Hansem nodded, backing away and closing the door behind him.  Aaron walked back to the den and sat down in a chair, across from John's prone body.  _Dammit__…dammit, Aida._  He stood up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and looking at himself in the mirror.  Not too bad, for a grunt.  He wasn't exactly what many would call staggeringly handsome, but he'd picked up a few second glances from the opposite sex.  Short blond hair, cut in a typical Marine cut, with dark blue-green eyes, eyes that Aida had once called "cat's eyes."  His body showed the result of years of training, combat sorties against the Skaarj, battle scars from Skaarj blades and energy weapons.  He traced over one in particular, a group of scars from a Skaarj trident-weapon received while protecting Aida.  She called him a fool for acting like some twenty-credit book hero, but when he recovered, their lovemaking had become fierce, unfettered.

Aaron shook his head.  _Dammit__, Aida, why did I let you go?_

A ring from the telecomm startled him and he spun around, then calmed down and went to the telecomm. "Talk to me."

"Captain Ridge, this Colonel Dawson."

Aaron snapped to, reflex kicking in.  "Sir."

"Captain, you are to report to the ship _Damocles_ in six hours, the shuttle to the _Damocles_ will be at Dock 23.  You are going to be on special assignment; you will be briefed upon arrival."

"Yes, Sir."  _That gives me all of three hours to sleep….no sweat._

Aaron dropped off the shuttle landing, where he was met by Colonel Dawson, a handsome man in his fifties, with a full head of hair despite his years and a wiry form.  His uniform was impeccable, ironed and pressed, not a decoration or insignia out of place.  "Permission to come aboard, sir?"

"Granted, Captain.  Welcome to the _Damocles._  Follow me."  Colonel Dawson walked deeper into the ship, heading for the stern.  "What you are about to become involved in is top secret.  We are moving towards a new era, and our ongoing fight against the Skaarj is going to require a new approach, new strategies.  What we're doing now is extremely classified.  No talk of this leaves the ship, not at any time.  Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good.  Everyone here is under the strictest confidence.  Assignment to this ship is only available after strictest evaluation of your loyalty and dedication to the TCA.  I'm counting on you to act as security for one of the most vital missions of this ship."

"And which mission is that?"

Colonel Dawson smiled.  "We're building a new type of android…a cyborg-android analog."

"Isn't that kind of either-or, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We're creating a new kind of weapon.  You'll see it in a few minutes."  Colonel Dawson smiled as he walked on.  "I understand you heard about what happened to the _Dorian Gray_?"

"I heard…there have been rumors all over the place, but from what I understand, there was illegal development of alien weapons.  Hawkins was in charge, keeping General Drexler out of the loop for the most part…or so I hear."

"From whom?" Colonel Dawson inquired.

"Sorry, sir, but I can't remember."

Colonel Dawson smiled.  "I hope you'll be equally forgetful when you're on shore leave.  As far as most know, the _Damocles_ is assigned to support duty, transferring supplies to different hot spots near the Rim."

"I'm a soldier, sir.  Not a traitor."

"Good…I expected no less from you."

"Thank you, sir."

Colonel Dawson came to a bulkhead door and stopped.  "After you."  Aaron nodded and opened it, just in time to see a Skaarj behemoth bearing down on him.  "Colonel, GET DOWN!"

Colonel Dawson stood there with a smile on his face.

Aaron swore as he drew his assault rifle, taking quick aim…then staring as the Skaarj stopped, then started to do a line dance ten feet away.  Aaron gaped, then turned to Colonel Dawson.  "What the…?!"

"What do you think, Captain?"

Aaron walked over to the Skaarj slowly, warily.  The alien hulk stopped and stood there, eyes blank, as Aaron reached out and stroked the skin.  It was lifelike, realistic…it was even the right temperature.  It even smelled like a Skaarj.  "My God…it feels so damn real."  He turned to Colonel Dawson.  "This is it?"

"Yes…just one of the experiments.  We're working with creating infiltrator units for the Skaarj."

"How close are we to making a successful unit?"

"Very close.  We're very close to making the organic control unit that would enable the simulons to perfectly mimic the Skaarj."  Colonel Dawson's pride was obvious.  "We've got the language down, but we still have to work on the logic circuits, iron out details like protocol, customs, understanding of complex subjects and actions.  As for physical, they are complete, fully functional.  They run off power gained from consuming organic material, cycle out waste products, give off smell, bleed, pass vital sign checks.  We've already tested them to see if Skaarj reacts to their bodies as fellow Skaarj or just mannequins.  They've worked perfectly."

Aaron looked at the Skaarj-simulon and touched the chest.  "And I take it you couldn't have just told me what you were working on?"

"I hate to repeat myself, so I like to get peoples' attention."

"So what's my job?  Stress-testing the new models, making sure they know how to fight?"

"Among other things.  I've seen your combat record.  Never failed, never got captured, lost some men, but never strayed from mission parameters.  You've survived under hellish conditions against incredible odds, and your resourcefulness has kept you alive.  If you can certify that these simulons can move, act and react like the real thing, then we can put them to work, have them destroy our enemies from within."  Colonel Dawson smiled.  "What do you think, Captain?"

Aaron smiled.  "I'm your man."

"Glad to hear it, son.  Grab a bunk and get settled.  We start testing of the prototypes in three days.  Until then, you'll start Security detail.  I'll introduce you to your squad tomorrow morning, 0900 hours."

"Yes, sir!"

Colonel Dawson smiled.  "Dismissed."

Aaron found it all rather surreal.

It was combat duty all over again, only a human was calling the shots.  Aaron found himself fighting Skaarj, only he was using a practice assault rifle, and hits were registered on a computer.  The first few times, the Skaarj simulons were easy pickings, readily fooled into staying put or getting bogged down by obstacles.  Aaron started to get a little cocky at that point, marking off kills after every exercise on a board outside the combat testing chamber.  

Then he got killed.

On the fifth test, Aaron moved in, almost swaggering in as he picked up a bead on his target.  He pulled the trigger and fired, but the Skarrj jumped away, then started firing with his energy lance.  Aaron found himself on the business end of a withering barrage and the fight was over.

"Nice acrobatics, Captain Ridge…too bad you're dead."  One of the techs grinned and Aaron growled.

"Run that Skaarj creature again…I ain't done yet!"

"Sure?  After all, you're dead…"

"One more comment out of you and I'll create the first posthumous homicide in history!"

The tech gulped.  "Coming right up, sir!"

_Good…because I really feel like shooting something at the moment._  Aaron positioned himself at the starting point in the massive chamber and waited for the room to reconfigure itself.  To keep Aaron and his adversary on their toes, the large chamber had the means to change its terrain and surroundings, outfitted to mimic any conceivable indoor or outdoor environment.  Of course, it wasn't perfect, but the Colonel was trying for accuracy more than aesthetics.  He succeeded well.  Though blocky, the pseudo-environment was more than capable of giving Aaron the illusion of any battleground he could think of…or dread.  Based on data from the Drakk homeworld, the ship could even mimic the cold, mechanical surroundings from the mission logs of another Marine.

_Remind me to thank that Marine for the nightmares if I ever find out who he is._  He reloaded the assault rifle and took a deep breath as the scenario reset and he heard the Skaarj roar.

"So, Aaron…what do you think?"

Aaron turned to his bunk-mate, Lt. Nora Cailen.  She was a muscular black woman, of such a dark, almost blue skin tone considered incredibly rare in this stage of civilization, with a bald head and an aristocratic look that tended to cause other members of the military to underestimate her as an opponent.  Anyone likely to walk up to her in the O-Club and comment on how sexy her legs looked was likely to feel those selfsame legs around his neck.  "About what?"

Nora smiled.  "The simulons."

"I think it's pretty goddam spooky, that's what."  He put his helmet on his footlocker and twisted his neck to work out the kinks.  "At first, it was kind of funny, watching them move and react…now…"

"Now?"

"Now it's like I'm back in the middle of it again, only I'm doing it over and over and over again.  And they're so…"

"So real?"

"Yeah."  He stared at Nora.  "What are you grinning at?"

"I'm one of the combat programmers.  I'm one of the reasons why you're having so much fun."

"Then maybe you can answer a question that's been nagging me ever since I came onboard.  Why do you guys refer to them as cyborg-androids?"

"Well…they're using a new type of technology.  The bodies use a metal endoskeleton, but their outer surface is pseudo-organic, designed to act and react like the real thing.  It'll even bleed and heal like real skin.  The real key is the brains.  The minds of simulon units are programmed not just with machine language, but with DNA samples of the creatures they're trying to mimic."

"DNA samples?  How do you use DNA to program a computer?"

"Well, all DNA is is programming code for organic material.  We just figured out a way to translate DNA code into a form that can be used to create and alter behavioral subroutines in the simulon brain."

Aaron sighed.  "Great.  The Marines are about to technologicalized out of a job."

"Come on, Captain.  With simulons, they'll cost less to build and train than Marines.  Despite what you may hear on the newsnets, if this war keeps up, humans are going to be on the endangered species list."

Aaron took off his jacket and his boots.  "The problem is, where's it gonna stop?"

"I don't follow."

"If it works with Skaarj, how long before they start thinking about doing it with people?"

"Never happen.  Hell, way I hear it, they had to fight with the Council just to get permission to go this far," Nora said defensively.

"Like the military has a long history of asking permission."

"Careful, Captain…that's the kind of talk that gets people court-martialed for treason."

Aaron looked at Nora.  "You planning on turning me in?"

Nora looked at him carefully, then said, "Just stop talking like that, Captain.  We've got our orders."  As she spoke, however, she started tapping on the bunk.  It took Aaron only a minute to realize she was tapping out in ancient Morse Code.  The message was, _bugged._

Aaron sighed, "Alright, alright…if you sure."  He tapped out, _where?_

"I'm one of the combat programmers, Captain." _Engine room, bay 12, 2200._  "If anybody thought something weird was going on, I'd know about it…and from what I can see, everything's on the up-and-up."

Aaron sighed. _Who else?_  "Fine.  Sorry, I've just had some problems with authority from time to time.  I've always followed orders."

Nora nodded.  _Nine of us._  "And just keep doing that and you won't have to worry.  The Colonel's one of the Guys in the White Hats."

"Just worried about getting replaced by a simulon."  _How deep is it?_

Nora smiled, but the smile looked like a mask.  _Black ops._  "Not a chance…no simulon could ever be as annoying as you."

"Thanks a helluva lot."  _Shit._  Aaron stood up and took off his shirt.  "Look, I gotta get some sleep.  I've been beaten up by Skaarj all day and I'm wiped.  You pulling second shift tomorrow?"

"Yep, same as always."

"I'll come down for coffee, meet some of the other guys on the squad.  I've been spending so much time in simulations, I barely know anyone here."

"You got it, Cap."

Aaron entered the Engine Room warily.  His training made it easy for him to get past the patrols and the sensors, but he was more worried about what he was getting himself into and who he was going to meet.  _This is either going to be something that'll confirm my suspicions…or I'm going to be ground-zeroed by a lynch mob.  Either way, I may be way in over my head._  He sidestepped a pair of techs and waited for a few minutes.  He checked his watch.  _Three minutes.  Plenty of time._

He moved into the bay and closed the door behind him, deactivating the override.  _Only a ship-wide order to abandon ship can open that door now._

"You're late."

Aaron sighed and turned around, seeing ten other figures in the dim light.  "Traffic.  So who's throwing this party and am I going to have to wound anyone?"

"Suspicious, aren't you?" said a wry male voice from the right.

"Nahh, I'm always the trusting sort.   That's why I evaded security and find myself in a darkened room after hours on a regular basis.  You should see what I do on shore leave."

The male turned to another tall female.  "Is he always like this?"

"Pretty much," returned Nora's voice.  She came out into the light.  "Aaron Ridge…meet the Wraiths."

"Combat unit?"

"Not all of us.  Some of us are noncoms, but we all have one thing in common.  We know the truth about Operation: Phoenix."

"What's Operation: Phoenix?"

Another person walked into view, a diminutive Chinese man in a tech jumpsuit.  "I can answer that better than anyone.  I'm Dr. Hsu, and I pioneered the technology that led to starting the Phoenix program.  What you know as simulons is just the results of the prototype technology.  You've seen it.  Mechanical beings that act and react just like their organic counterparts in high-stress situations."

"So?"

"The prototypes weren't Skaarj."

Aaron stared.  "_Human_ simulons?"

"Yes…they've been working on the technology for years, and they managed to perfect the body, but the minds they wanted to make for the simulons weren't designed for the high-stress work of infiltration.  The most common, but by no means the only, problem was overheating.  In high-stress operations, the current required to manage the microcomputers was too much for the units and the brains literally boiled over.  I was contracted to find a solution to the trouble.  You see, with positronic brains, their components require high current, but I figured out a means of replicating DNA and taking the codes and making electrical engrams and encoding them into a naometric-level braincase…"

"Dr. Hsu?"

Dr. Hsu stopped.  "Yes?"

"At the risk of raising an old stereotype, would you mind trying that in English?"

Dr. Hsu sighed.  "Using a genetic sample of anyone, I can take the encoded genetic traits and create an artificial brain that can mimic, within acceptable parameters, the behavior, identity and mannerisms of the genetic donor."

"You can make copies of people?  That's impossible.  Don't people have memories?  Experiences?  You can't take someone's blood sample and just make a copy of everything they've ever gone through."

"Sure you can.  Outside experiences create stimuli.  Those stimuli affect us on a genetic level, bio-chemically.  Some influences are stronger than others, and can affect us and our descendants in small ways…but amplify those genetic factors and you can pull up detailed experiences, memories, emotional states.  The theory of genetic memory has been examined for decades, after all."

"I hate to interrupt your dissertation, but is all this speculation or are there human simulons on this ship?"

Dr. Hsu nodded.  "Yes."

"Son of a BITCH…"

Dr. Hsu sighed.  "It was never meant to be used as a weapon."

"Dr. Hsu, you seem like a smart guy…tell me something.  Who has been behind almost every single advance in technology since 2000 B.C.?  I'll tell you who.  The MILITARY."

"Aaron, calm _down._"

Aaron turned to Nora, then sighed.  "What do you want me to do?"

"We need to find out what they're doing."

"I thought you knew what they were doing."

Nora looked at him, then turned to the others, who came into the light.  All of them wore tech jumpsuits.  "Aaron, I'm the only person here who suspects that's military.  The rest of these people work at several stages of the simulon process, but they're all separated.  Nobody knows everything about what's going on.  We need you to get proof."

"Why me?"

"I got a look at your military file.  You were Phantom Company, right?"

Aaron stopped.  "Those files were purged from my record."

"Those files were hidden, not purged.  You're the only person here who can get to Deck C without being spotted."

"What's Deck C?"

"That area is off limits to everyone…except Colonel Dawson."

"So you think the information you're looking for is there?"

"We've checked everywhere else."

Aaron sighed.  "And you want me to just walk into that area?  I'm one of the main security officers, they're watching me like a hawk."

"Aaron, for God's sake, stop being an asshole."  Nora rubbed her temples.  "I've heard about Phantom Company operatives, I've heard what you can do.  I know you guys can walk on sand without leaving footprints.  Why are you stalling on this?"

"What do you think?  You've read my record."

"Yeah…but I was hoping that, for once, you'd go outside 'mission parameters.'  You know what simulons can do if they were perfected.  _Anyone_ can be copied and replaced.  Assassins, planetary leaders, all re-programmed to act on a pre-set trigger to do anything…even carry a bomb inside their bodies."

Aaron stared at Nora.  

"There'll be no stopping them, Aaron…and that's if Colonel Dawson decides to let the military know he's succeeded.  If he doesn't, he can disappear and start sending out sleeper agents, assassinating their targets and taking their places."

"ALRIGHT!" Aaron snarled.  He sighed as he looked around at the technicians.  "You are putting a serious cramp in my military career, you realize that?"

                "You have a duty, Captain.  You swore an oath to protect your world from all enemies...foreign and domestic."

Aaron growled.  "You hadda bring up 'dutv', didn't you?"  He paced the chamber for a few moments, then turned to them.  "Fine...but until I succeed, you're better off not knowing where I am or what I'm doing, in case someone questions you.  Until I contact you again, don't say a word, not to anyone about this.  If I get caught, you don't know me, I don't know you."

Nora nodded.  "Fair enough.  How will we know when you've gotten the proof?"

"Oh, don't worry….you'll know.  Give me a few days to get the logistics worked out."

Dr. Hsu interjected, "How do we know you won't turn us in to Colonel Dawson the moment you wake up tomorrow morning?"

Aaron looked to the doctor, who wore an expression of deep worry, and for good reason.  Dr. Hsu was suggesting treason.  "I'm going to check out your story.  If I find that it's bullshit, THEN I'm going to tell the Colonel you've been inciting mutiny.  If I find out that you're right…then I'll check to see if it's been reported to the authorities and if it's a valid project they approved…then we'll figure out what to do next."

"Trust me, Captain.  This is no fool's errand."

"I'll trust you when I see it for myself."  Aaron unlocked the door and looked outside silently.  "Coast should be clear.  I'll cause a little distraction so you all can bail.  Don't worry, nothing explosive."

"Why am I worried that you had to make that distinction out loud?" Nora asked, shaking her head.

Aaron smiled and closed the door behind him.  Nora sat down on one of the crates and yawned.  One of the other technicians, a woman named Corrine, sat down next to her.  "What do you think?"

"He'll do it.  He may be loyal, but he still believes in honor and duty over loyalty.  I've seen some of his missions, and he's pushed the envelope to a great deal when he felt the situation warranted it."  Nora managed a smile.  "I'm certain he won't betray us."

"Colonel Dawson, can I have a word with you?"

Colonel Dawson looked up from his desk.  "Enter, Captain.  What can I do for you today?"

"Well, sir, there was something I needed to talk with you about…it's very important."

"By all means, Captain, do speak up."  Colonel Dawson sat back in his chair, his hands together, fingers crisscrossed.

"Colonel Dawson, I've been talking to a couple of people, and I'm curious about what the future.  The future of this project…after we destroy the Skaarj, what other applications could there be for the simulons?"

"Haven't thought about that, really…"

Aaron heard the almost imperceptible hitch in his throat, a sure sign he had already made great plans for the simulons.  "Well, surely they could be used for peacetime use?"

"Certainly…although they still act like organics in many ways, we could program them to be failsafe.  No worries about disobeying orders.  No chance of them hurting citizens."  Colonel Dawson looked at Aaron curiously.  "Why do you ask?"

"Sir…permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Sir, I'm a career soldier.  I've been fighting for Humanity since I was old enough to join the Marines.  I'd like to know that there'll still be a place for me in all this.  I don't think I could do anything else but be a soldier."

Colonel Dawson smiled.  _Now he's mine._  "Captain, I promise you, help my project to succeed and I will be sure to reward you in ways you can't dare dream."

"I'll hold you to it, sir."  Aaron smiled as the device in his hands finished uplinking to the Colonel's database, decrypting the files and downloading all the pertinent data.  He kept the silver-dollar sized device in his left hand.  "I knew I'd never get rich being in the Marines, sir, but I'd like to think my loyalty and devotion mean something."

"It does, Captain…in fact, I hear you're up for promotion soon, thanks to all your hard work."

"Thank you, sir.  That's good news."  Aaron stood up.  "Thank you, sir, for your time."

"Not at all.  It was a pleasure…Major Ridge."

Aaron smiled and left, feeling an intense need to take a hot shower.  Being with the Colonel as he appraised him was making him edgy.  He could feel the Colonel's ambitious nature like a rising stench, and it worried him, even more with what he knew from Nora and Dr. Hsu's conversation last night.  If nothing else, the talk with the Colonel had vindicated any doubts he might have had about their paranoia.

He pulled the small disc out of his pocket and looked at the holoprojection it made just over it.  "Tonight."  He put it back in his pocket, wondering what he was going to find when he got in.

Because he was in deep now.

Aaron stood inside the crawlspace, checking the time.  _Less than a minute left before the air exchange._  He checked the air in his suit and moved through the space to the next deck, feeling before seeing the scanner web over the opening in the deck.  He held out the scrambler and had it scan the web's frequencies, then locked in on the primary set and disrupted it temporarily, moving in fast.  The system blurred for a moment, then reset, without acknowledging his presence.  Aaron mentally checked his timetable.  He had three hours before the ship docked at Talos 4, an industrial colony where all the manufacturing was done in orbit in a Class V space station, leaving the colonists on the planet below unsullied by pollution.  He knew that, depending on what he'd find out, he'd have to consider escaping the ship entirely…a prospect he was not looking forward to.  He hoped that all he'd needed to do was copy some files and stash the disc somewhere until he could transmit the information to the higher-ups.

If the higher-ups weren't involved all the way up to their eyebrows, a concept Aaron found distasteful.

Colonel Dawson would have been surprised at the depths of the distrust such a "loyal" Marine would have.  Although his record spoke of a Marine with formidable talents and a stickler for the rules, further investigation with past acquaintances would reveal a man with an axe to grind against the TCA in many ways.  Aaron's sister, Claire, used to be a farmer on a world that turned out to be in the path of a Skaarj recon group.  Aaron found out the military had pulled out just prior to the attack, in order to test a new automated defense system, see how long it took before the defenses could be breached.  The military's official word on the incident was that they tried to evacuate the colony, but Aaron discovered they had made no attempt to get the colonists off, even sabotaging some of the ships to make it more difficult for the colonists to leave.

Since that day, Aaron had made himself into the perfect soldier, looking for ways to expose the military for who they truly were.  While some attributed his survival to a well-developed sense of self-preservation and tenacity, one of the main reasons for his desire to survive was something less noble, but more pure…revenge.

To this end, he'd made a lot of friends outside the military community, covering his communications with technological and logistic means that even the most paranoid would've considered extreme.  Reporters to the Galactic Press, underground elements, fringe elements…anyone who could assist Aaron in gaining intelligence on the military's more shadowy exploits.  He could've easily acquired the information with his security clearance, but he knew that if he did try to find the information by himself, he'd get flagged.  From that point on, Aaron figured that he'd be ripe for a little "accident".

And Aaron Ridge was not the type of person to trust in fate with a stacked deck…unless he was the one doing the stacking.

He crawled through the tunnel and stopped at an airlock, letting himself in quickly and stopping into the hallway, just before moving under a set of security cameras and pulling himself inside one of the chambers beyond.  He took a few breaths, then pulled up the map of the interior.  Careful study of the information Aaron had leeched from Colonel Dawson's mainframe had rewarded him with an intimate knowledge of the deck's security systems…and a distinct sense of alarm.  Even for new technology, the security measures in place were massive and complex.  The only way to not get detected there was not to be there at all.

Aaron shrugged out of the vacsuit, revealing the stealthsuit underneath.  Acquiring the suit was an adventure in itself, but the military didn't mind.  All it took was fudging some numbers and adding a few more, and what was originally an order for four became five.  Aaron pulled the hood over his face and tapped a button.  In a second, he was gone, hidden from all electronic sensors and from the naked eye.

He nodded, then moved out into the hallway again.  He knew he had to move fast; the suits were great on stealth, but lousy on time.  After seven minutes, the batteries would be exhausted.  He moved quickly, spanning the distance between the airlock and the main access doors, and moved through into the chamber beyond.  Aaron found himself inside a secondary chamber, with decontamination scrubbers at both sides.  

                A warning light went off and on again in his peripheral vision.  He dodged out of sight, ducking behind some large containers as two men in laboratory jumpsuits entered from the room beyond.  Aaron leaned against the wall and listened.

                "So, why can't we just make 'em look however we want?" one of the men asked his companion.

                "Don't you pay attention in the briefings, Jon?  Simulons are _grown,_ not built.  We need source DNA to work from as a template."

                "What about what the Colonel said?"

                "That's just for the unwashed masses, Jon.  If people found out that human DNA was used, we'd get lynched!  But if people kept thinking they were synthetic, androids, then they won't feel so bad about making them do whatever we want them to do.  Suicide missions, toys for the rich…we're going to be able to use them for everything we want them to do, and their conditioning will make them do it, even enjoy doing it.  I gotta tell you, that one we salvaged from that ship?  She's a _piece,_ man.  That long hair, those lips, those breasts…the thought of her being a willing slave sure makes me proud to be part of this project!"

"My, what noble thoughts we have for this new technology," Jon said dryly.

"Survival of the fittest, Jon.  Besides, it's not like we've got overcrowding anymore.  And we'll be in on the ground floor, so you know we'll be able to get our pick of the resources.  Genetic material from the best stock in the world.  And once we get the genetic manipulation perfected, we can say so long to menial labor, creating a race of pliant, servile workers.  Sky's the limit!"  The technician smiled as Aaron fought down the urge to give away his presence by retching.  "Hell, I could get genetic samples of the Izanagi cadet corps, make simulons and make them all female, put them in a stable and give them the sexual morals of…"

"For crying out _loud,_ Soren, is every decision or judgement call you make ruled by your gonads?"

"Some of them."  Soren smiled.

"You're disgusting," Jon shook his head.  "Haven't you ever wanted to think about trying to help people with this technology?"

"Generosity is only for people who can afford it, besides, what's wrong with looking out for Number One?"

"Because it sounds a lot like a load of Number Two."

"Just watch, Jon…this is going to be epic.  We're going to be the new Masters, man.  I've seen it."

"You're starting to sound like the Colonel."

"You make that sound like a _bad_ thing.  The man's a frickin' genius."

"As much as I would love to debate this, I've got to get some sleep."  Jon rubbed his temples.  "I hate these double shifts."

Aaron listened as they left, then stopped recording.  _If I thought I had the luxury, I think I'd be worried._  He walked to the panel of the door they'd emerged from and tapped on the door lock.  The door beeped and a red light lit up over the panel.  _Oh, so you wanna play, huh?_  He took out a descrambler and ran a set of wire leads into the card reader, then started typing can-opener codes into the device.  _Come on, pal, don't make me open you up and see your innards…_

The panel bleeped at him, surrendering.  "Good boy."  Aaron walked in, sidestepping into the equipment room and putting on one of the hazmat suits hanging within.  One last touch, a card-sized device designed to mimic identification cards, and he was ready.  Aaron walked in, tapping his card and pulling up Jon's identification.  "Let's see him talk his way out of trouble now…"

Colonel Dawson tapped the screen on his desk.  "Major Connelly, please have Captain Ridge see me in my office.  There's some security changes I'll need to make before we make stationfall."

"Right away, sir."

Colonel Dawson checked his files idly.  _So much to do.__  It's amazing what one has to deal with when faced with incompetent commanders and those unable or unwilling to see the Big Picture._  He went through the records, deciding what to keep in its original format and put away in his private files, and what files to release, after "sanitizing" it for his superiors.  For two years, he'd kept the true progress of the simulons' development a closely-guarded secret.  He'd kept developers and scientists largely unaware of what they were working on, what progress they'd made, even the existence of the other researchers.  Final assembly was left to technicians and scientists he knew he could trust, either through coercion or by temptation.  After all, the idea to have complete and utter servitude without fear of reprisal was a very alluring offer.  Simulons, under the guise of synthetic beings, would have no rights at all.

Colonel Dawson smiled winningly.  _And then…no force on in the galaxy will be able to…_

"Sir?"

Colonel Dawson sighed.  "Where is Captain Ridge?  I want him up here ASAP."

"That's what I wanted to tell you, sir.  I can't seem to find him.  He's not in his room and I cannot seem to locate him using his tracer."

"Try the backup frequencies, or the thermal scan."

"Sir, if it was something that simple, I wouldn't have contacted you.  I have tried those scanners and I have received no signal corresponding to Captain Ridge."

Colonel Dawson frowned.  "Malfunction?"

"Unlikely."

"Find out what happened to him, see if you can find any signs of foul play!  We may have saboteurs aboard…and make sure to send three teams.  If they're formidable enough to defeat Ridge, then they'll need to be on their toes."

"Yes, sir."

Colonel Dawson considered, then tapped the comm again.  "Also, implement a Stage 3 Alert on Deck C.  No one gets in or out."

"Yes, sir."

Aaron stared as he entered the lab proper.  The lab consisted of a large apparatus in the middle of the room, with ten chambers surrounding it, each with a figure inside suspended by an amber-green liquid.  Seven of the figures inside were obviously Skaarj, but the other three held human figures in varying degrees of development.  One was a mechanical endoskeletion, weaves of tendons and ligaments surrounding it, the beginnings of musculature forming on the metal frame.  The next one was a male figure, and apparently, the Colonel liked his toys anatomically correct.  Apart from a complete lack of body hair, the figure inside was fully formed.

The third figure was only half-formed, but it was easy to see that the finished product would be female.

The apparatus was fed by tubes bound together and connected to tanks of nutrient fluids as well as other chemical baths Aaron couldn't hope to figure out.  Along one wall sat the main computer banks, the opposite wall, twelve tables, each with a body on it undergoing various stages of dissection.  Aaron had seen death before on the battlefield, but this was obscene…creatures born only to die on a slab minutes, maybe even mere moments after their birth.

_The sooner I get out of this nightmare, the better._

Aaron went to the computer and inserted a high-capacity disc, hacking through the password profiles and logging in, then downloading the files on Operation:Phoenix.  As he let the computer do its work, his eyes fell upon something he hadn't seen before.  In the rear of the room were eight more of those transparent capsules, five of them with occupants inside.  As he looked closer, his jaw dropped as he saw the occupant of capsule six.

                It was Aida.

                She didn't have her trademark snake or her rose-and-thorns tattoos, but it was her nonetheless.  Her hair was just as long as he remembered, but loose,floating about her head like a halo.  Her eyes were closed, her expression serene.  She looked as if she could just wake up at any moment.

Aaron took a deep breath, then his eyes went to the data on the screen in front of the capsule.  What he saw on the screen made his heart hitch in his chest.

Status: Viable

Dna origin: Human

Gender: female

Dna addendum: recovered from remains of tca _atlantis__._  Viable dna from severed right arm.

Artifical age progression: complete

Genetic memory factor: 91%

Behavioral modification: assassin/infiltrator

Modification status: incomplete

Projected time until completion: 6 hours, 20 minutes, 53 seconds

Assignment: undetermined

_You bastards…how could you do it…how could you do it to _her_, of all people…_  Aaron wiped his eyes.  Everything in him told him to destroy everything, immolate the entire deck.  Vengeance burned in his heart, every dark, dangerous emotion in him burned like solar flares.  He wished he had his sidearm with him so he could shoot holes in every piece of equipment on the deck.  Aaron slammed his fist down on the screen and it scrambled, functions going red on the board next to him.

Bubbles rose in the fluid as the female inside began to twitch, her eyes opened.  She looked down at the figure below and something within her, something deep inside her, made a connection.  Her arm felt as if it was moving through drying synthcrete while weighed down by dwarfstar matter.  She broguth her hands up and brought her knuckles against the container.

Aaron heard it.  

He looked up into green eyes he thought he'd never see again.  He saw her face react, her lips moving, small bubbles moving from the edge of her lips.  His jaw went slack as her lips formed the words, "Help me…"

"Blue Team, move in and secure the lab.  Red Team, sweep the room."

The doors to the lab opened and the two squads of six men entered, moving in pre-determined patterns to cover the exits and search the room for anything out of the ordinary.  Blue Team searched every entrance and exit into the room.  Red Team entered, came around the corner and froze, raising their guns. "Over here!"

"Red Team, report!" barked Colonel Dawson into the comm..

"No one's here…but we do have sighs of entry.  The mainframe's active and three of the tubes have been drained, their contents removed."

"Which containers?"

"…three, five and six, sir."

Colonel Dawson suddenly felt a distinct sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "Red Team, see if the slugsuit is in the loading dock."

"Copy that."  A moment of silence.  "That is a negative, sir, I repeat, negative, the suit is not there."

Colonel Dawson's teeth ground together.  "NO…find them!  They didn't simply vanish!"

Red Team fanned out, checking out the perimeter.  Two of the five exit doors were opened, leading to other areas of the ship.  One of the Red Team went to one of the other hatches and opened it.  "Where does this go?"

"Biohazard disposal.  A smooth ride straight to the combustion chamber.  If they escaped down there, they're going to hell…and the ship's exhaust is hotter.  Nobody's crazy enough to escape down that way."

Dawson looked down at the group of people in the net below him.  "Everyone alright down there?"

"I am of varying health levels," came the modulated voice of the alien Ne`Ban simulon, looking at the semi-nude form of Isaak and Aida.  "I know not where I am, but I am surprising."

"Hang on….I'm almost through."  Aaron concentrated on his work with the cutting torch.  "We'll be out to the shuttlebay in a few minutes.  How you doing down there…Isaak?"

"I'm okay…but I'd love to know where we are and how I got here, and why we're trying not to be found by the TCA!"

"I'll explain later."

"No…you're going to explain _now._"  Aida tried again in vain to cover herself with the hospital garb.

"You want it sugar-coated, or right between the eyes?"

"You wish to fire into us?" Ne'Ban asked worriedly.

"Naw, Ne'Ban, he just wants to know if we can handle the truth…"  Isaak looked up at Aaron nervously.  "Is it bad?"

"Let me put it to you this way:  once we get out of here, we're going to have to lie low, because once the TCA realizes you're alive, they're going to try their level best to make sure we all die.  All of us."  Aaron finished the last cut and pulled the panel loose.  "Any questions?"

"Yeah…is it too late to get it sugar-coated?"

Aaron looked down at Isaak with a nasty grin.  "That _was_ sugar-coated."

"Oh great."  Isaak groaned.

Aaron pulled himself through the hole and crawled past the biohazard detectors, the scrambler covering their exit.  As he traveled, he looked back periodically to check on his companions' progress.  The look Aida gave him bothered him...it was almost accusing.  He put it out of his head.  _Better speed this up before someone finds out they can't get the docking bay door closed…_

"Report!!"

"We've lost them, sir."

"Do NOT tell me that, soldier!  That answer is unacceptable!  I don't want to…"  Another transmission came in and Colonel Dawson growled, "Stand by!"  He opened up the second channel.  "Report!"

"Sir, we are under attack!"

"How many?" Colonel Dawson asked quickly.

"I don't know, we're completely surrounded!  They're like ghosts! They're making their way to a troopship!"

"Close down the docking bay, don't let them escape!"

"AAaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!"  The channel cut off.

Colonel Dawson snarled and contacted the bridge.  "Seal off the docking bay!  Don't let them escape!"  _How many men _are_ there?  And how did a strike force get in here without being detected?_  "What's happening down there?!"

"We can't close the doors, sir, they've been jammed open!"

"Dammit!  Useless incompetents!  Can you bring the outer guns online?"

"Trying, sir…someone's activated a shutdown override!"

"Then bypass it!"

"We're trying, sir!  Give us a few minutes."

"You have ONE!  Use it wisely!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Patch me a feed to the sensors!"  Colonel Dawson pulled up his main screen as he saw the troopship leaving the dock.  "Can we identify who's inside the ship?"

"Negative, sir.  The ship is giving off a force field that protects it from being scanned."

_I don't know who you people are…but I'm not going to let you wreck my plans._  "As soon as you get the guns back online, I want you to blow that troopship to sub-atomic particles!"

"Everyone strapped in?" Aaron called back.

"Yeah…but this is crazy!  How the hell are we going to get out of here?" Isaak called back from the passenger bay.

"I've got a diversion set up…hopefully, it'll distract the gunners long enough for us to get away."

"A diversion?  To which will they be shooting for?" Ne'Ban asked.

"I'll explain later…now, I want everyone to be quiet."  He taped the remote and felt a shifting as he and the others moved out into space.  "And stay calm."

"WHERE ARE MY GODDAM GUNS?!?" Colonel Dawson yelled into the comm.

"Almost got the portside cannons up, sir!"

"They'll be out of range soon, speed it up!"

"Almost got it…there!"

"Match bearings and fire at will!"

"Okay….hang on, we're almost out of here," Aaron whispered as the _Damocles_ moved further and further away.  He smiled, then watched as the cannons on the port side swung into position.  "Okay, this is it…!"

Colonel Dawson watched, the guns seeming to orient on the troopship in slow-motion.  He looked at his display on the scanners, the troopship was almost out of range.  He gripped the desktop tightly, his knuckles white from the tension.  _If those bastards reach the atmosphere..._

                "Target locked,sir!!  Firing!!"

                Aaron looked up.  "We're dead."

                The cannons lanced out, their deadly payloads pummeling the troopship, tearing it apart.  The look on Colonel Dawson's face was ecstatic, almost euphoric in its glee as he sat down.  He waited until nothing was left large enough to pick up with the scanners, then he gave the orders to stand down.  "We're disembarking.  Inform the fleet that we are moving on our next run.  Dispose of the trash and let's leave."

"Yes, sir."

Isaak looked at himself carefully.  "I don't look dead."

"I am as well not expiring.  Please explain usage of language as referring to demises."

"Here's how it is, Ne'Ban."   Aaron turned to them as they sat in the escape pod.  "I've been planning this for a few weeks.  I knew something was up, but I didn't know you three were involved.  I didn't like the idea of what they were planning to do with you, so I brought you with me."

"What were they planning to do?" Isaak asked.  "Damn, I need a smoke."

"Not until we make planetfall.  Besides, I don't smoke anymore."

"When did that happen?"  Aaron turned to Aida, who still had that expression that bothered him.  He bit back retorts he'd been saving for the last few years, words he wanted to say to her, in anger, in pain, in frustration.

Now wasn't the time.

"Things change," he said simply.  "But we can walk down Memory Lane later.  Right now, we've got a planet to catch."

"So what happened?" Isaak asked.

"Let me see if I can guess," Aida said levelly.  "Aaron figured on getting off the ship, so he set the autopilot on the troopship, scrambled the interior so no one would realize it was empty, and timed the recovery of the gunnery controls so that the troopship would get decimated too far away to recover anything…and from the look of our accomodations, I'm willing to bet you spent some time setting up this escape pod so it would detach without setting off every alarm on the ship.  Did I leave anything out?"

"Yeah…you forgot to mention how much of a smartass you'd become since I last saw you."

Aida smiled, but her eyes were dark.  "Flatterer.  You're just pissed because I deprived you of the chance to show us all how clever you were."

Aaron heard an alarm go off in the pod.  "As much as I hate to shut you up, Aida, they're getting ready to make the jump.  I need a little silence."  He reached out and held his palm over the RELEASE button.  As he did, he listened for the telltale sound of the engines warming up for the jump.  

As he felt the vibrations in the ship's superstructure, he heard Isaak sigh, "Running from the TCA…geez, I'd rather be dead."  Aaron shook his head, then hit the button.  The interlocks released and the escape pod drifted off as the ship left planetary orbit, immediately making the jump to their destination.  Aaron delayed firing the re-entry rockets until he was sure they wouldn't get picked up by a stray sensor, then braced himself as the pod began to shudder as it pushed its way through the upper atmosphere.

"Aaron?"

Aaron looked up from his seat near the window of the apartment he'd rented the night before.  They all had been exhausted, but Aaron had risen first, calling in a few favors to get certain matters like identities, money and transportation dealt with, checking on some caches he'd set aside.  He'd just finished up making a call to a fixer about getting some gear when he'd heard Aida's voice behind him.  "Good morning, Aida.  Sleep well?"

"No, now that you mention it, I didn't…because I'm not Aida."

Aaron closed his eyes.  "What makes you say that?"

"Because my tattoos are gone."

"They could've been removed…"

"Aaron, _stop._"

He turned around to look at her.  "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth, Aaron.  All of it.  You owe me that."

"You don't want to hear the truth, Aida."

_"Stop calling me that!!"_

"Stop shouting, you'll wake Isaak and Ne`Ban."

"Is that who they really are, Aaron?"

He sighed.  "Sit down…but remember, you wanted this."

Aida sat, dressed in more normal clothes scrounged after they'd landed.  Aaron noticed with some interest that she'd chosen clothing that tended to be tight-fitting but gave her freedom of movement, synthleather pants and a synthleather top, sleeveless, covering her neck but showing some cleavage.  "Tell me everything."

"What do you remember last before you woke up in that tank?"

"I remember sending a message to John…telling him about Hawkins, telling him the truth.  Ne`Ban was dodging cannon fire…Isaak was working on some repairs.  Ne`Ban had told me that we wouldn't be able to take another hit…then…then I blacked out.  I must have…"  Her eyes widened.  "Aaron…what happened to me?"

"You died, Aida."

Aida sat there, looking at her hands, then back up at Aaron.  "Why did you bring me back?"

"I didn't.  A man named Colonel Reginald Dawson did."

"Then what am I, some sort of clone?"

"Not…exactly.  You're what he called a simulon, grown from a DNA sample they took from the site where the _Atlantis_ broke up.  You're able to mimic being human, but you have a metal endoskeleton, as well as other traits."

"Like what?"

Aaron looked at Aida.  Her calm tone was beginning to worry him.  "Enhanced speed, strength and agility, not much, but higher than human norms.  Total recall.  You don't age, much."

"What else?"

Aaron fell silent.  "You can be programmed, your behavior modified.  I don't know what they put into you, but the program they were using was for spying and assassination work."

Aida was silent again, then she looked up.  Aaron sat there in shock as he realized that she'd been crying.  "You should've killed me!" she yelled at him.

"I couldn't!"

"You son of a bitch!"  Aida launched herself at him and tackled him, knocking him out of his chair.  They rolled over and over, then Aaron got on top of her, pinning her arms over her head.  "Let me go! Let me _die!_"

"No…Aida, stop this!"

"I'M NOT AIDA!!"  She pushed up and Aaron felt himself thrown into the air, landing on the table, feeling it collapse under his weight.  He got up and turned to Aida, frozen in shock as she realized what she'd done.  She slumped to her knees, her hands over her face, sobbing like a lost child.  "I'm a freak…a damn toaster…"

"Look…easy…"  Aaron walked over to her and sat on the floor next to her, holding her, feeling her hug him back desperately.  "You are not a freak…"

"You should've killed me, Nate…"

"I couldn't.  You asked me to help you."

Aida looked up at him.  "I loved you…Aida loved you, and she pushed you away.  Nate…Nate, I'm so confused.  Who am I?  Am I Aida?  Am I someone else?"

"You're you…and you're not just some construct.  You feel, you hurt, you experience emotions.  You're _someone._"

"But what if I'm not?  What if everything I'm feeling is just pre-programmed?  Memories running off a computer in my head?"

Aaron sighed.  "I don't have the answer to that, but you're never going to find out if you terminate yourself."

Aida wiped her eyes, then looked up at Aaron.  "Aaron…what are we going to do?"

"Stop Dawson."

"How?"

"I have no idea…but you know what they say in the Wraiths…"

"'We don't plan, we improvise.'  Yes, I remember you saying that a few times…"  She stopped.  "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"How do I find out who I am?"

Aaron hugged her close.  "You make that decision for yourself.  For now, we're going to have to pick new names.  The old ones are not going to work for us now."

"Yeah…"  She straightened herself, wiping her eyes and standing up, going to a chair and sitting down.  "Got any picked out yet?"

"Yep.  For you, Diana."

She considered that for a few moments, then smiled.  "That'll work.  Isaak?"

"Jacob."

"Diana" looked at Aaron.  "You look like a 'Nathan' to me."

"Okay…Nathan it is."

"What about Ne'Ban?"

"We'll call him 'Rogue'.  I think 'Jacob' can work up a suit for him that'll mask his identity and voice."

"So…now what?"

"Now the tough part comes…survival."

Diana nodded.  "Well, I've died once already.  Maybe this is a second chance."

"I'm all about second chances," Nathan smiled.

Diana gave him a look that Nathan couldn't recognize, but this one didn't look as accusing as the one she gave him while they were making their escape.  He rubbed his head, then sighed.  "Situation's pretty unreal, huh?"

"You going to tell the other two the truth?"

"Later…let 'em sleep.  Meanwhile, I'm going to need your help on getting intel from resources I can't access."

"Right.  I'll get to work.  I still remember a lot of things, and I think I know some people who can help us."

"Same here.  Phone's in the other room."  Diana smiled and stood up, walking towards the other room and Nathan watched her go.  As he did, he found himself wondering what she remembered about him.  He shook it off.  _She's still beautiful…and still dangerous.  Even if she does remember what happened as Aida, what about that programming?_  He watched the clouds move across the sky.  _Please, God…don't make me have to kill her.  I'm beggin' ya._

If God had an answer for him, it didn't come that night.

**TO BE CONTINUED….**


	2. On The Dodge

**Love So Unreal, Part II: On The Dodge**

**By C. Mage**

"How we doing, Jacob?"

"This thing's a total piece of shit, Nate.  The drive's nearly shot, and the electronics are totally outdated."

"Can you get it spaceworthy?"

"I can…but it's gonna take time.  Time and money."

"We've got some of both.  Let me know what you need."  Nathan walked back into the building of the ghost town that used to be a military base on Kaulus.  The planet was strategically important, a hundred years ago.  Now, it was a rusting derelict on an unimportant planet, not even worthy of mining rights.  

Of course, value changes based upon how desperate people can be.

Nathan walked back into the base, smiling a little at the condition.  The base had been stripped, but the buildings were still in good condition and the electronics worked.  _Okay, so they pulled everything that wasn't nailed down, but the environmentals worked and the rent's cheap._  Nathan tapped the keycode for entry into the main barracks.  _They even took the pots and pans._

Diana was in the mess hall, a bowl of soup cooling in front of her.  She dipped her spoon in, raised it and watched it as she turned the spoon in her fingers, watching the amber-yellow food drip down into the bowl again.  Nathan walked over to the table and sat down across from her.  "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good…for a dead woman."  She turned to him.  "How's the ship?"

"Jacob's working on it."

"No hurry…"  She looked at her soup again.  "How's Ne'Ban…I mean, Rogue?"

Nathan rubbed his temples.  "He's mourning in his room."

"Who's he mourning?"

"Himself.  Seems that every time one of his race dies, everyone of his race goes through a period of mourning.  For a lesser caste, it lasts only a few minutes, for royalty, a day or more.  The more personal, the more time."

"How long has he been down there?"

"A week.  Guess one's own death gets pretty personal.  However, he's going through some ritual.  When I asked him about it, he told me he had become one of the Treakh.  I looked it up.  In a prominent religion on his planet, the Treakh are kinda like angels, but are more kin in temperament and purpose to the Christian Angel of Death.  He feels duty-bound to avenge his own death, and views us all like angels in the same vein.  He's pretty serious about it."

"Glad to hear it."  Diana took another spoonful.

"Listen…"

"Don't….just don't."  Diana dropped the spoon into the soup.  "I don't want to hear it."

"And what do you plan to do, Diana?  Just stay here and rust like the rest of the equipment here?"

"What do you expect me to do?"  She glared at him accusingly.  "Be happy I'm 'alive'?  Go on some vengeance-from-the-grave crusade?  Forget it.  I'm not supposed to be alive and all of you are too gutless to kill me…"

Nathan slammed his fist on the table, knocking the bowl of soup off the table.  Diana stopped, but her angry look didn't flicker.  "You selfish bitch…!"

"_What_ did you just call me?"

"Shut up and listen.  Is this what you think this is?  Revenge?  An attempt to get back at the system?  Is that all you think this is??"

"Isn't it?"

"Diana, I want you to take a good hard look at yourself.  Do you know what he plans to do with anyone that won't toe the line in Colonel Dawson's new Order?  He plans to make them like you, only he's going to stick a bunch of behavioral modification programs in your head so they'll cheerfully, with smiles on their faces, jump into the path of an oncoming groundcar, jump off cliffs, kill their own families.  That's right.  He's going to make the universe in his own way and to hell with anyone's rights.  You think you hate what's happened to you?  Imagine it happening a million times over.  A BILLION.  How long do you think it'll be before he decides that the human race in _general_ is expendible?"

Diana didn't answer, but some of the fire in her expression had died.

"Know what amazes me the most?  Rogue and Jacob figured it out, same as me…you're the only one who hasn't gotten it and you're supposed to be the intelligence operative."  Nathan stood up angrily and stomped out of the room, slamming his fist against the doorjamb as he left.  He didn't know what hurt most; that Diana wanted to just fade away…or that a part of him wanted to fade away right along with her.

Nathan was falling in love with Diana, and it was killing him to see her like this.

                "So what's the plan?"  Jacob asked as he looked across the conference table at Nathan.  He'd abandoned his usual coveralls for a combat jumpsuit, but held on to his tool harness.  Rogue, for his part, was dressed in his enviro-suit.  Jacob had streamlined the suit, added a few options, even a rudimentary weapons package.  The weapons were little more than hold-out weapons, but bound to be a surprise for anyone who might assume the alien was an easy mark.

                Nathan pulled up a display showing the spacelanes and markers showing their relation to them.  "Right now, we have to assume that our getaway was clean.  It won't take long for the synth production to go back online, but our escape and the subsequent destruction set them back at least a few months, not to mention the fact that they're going to have to lie low to avoid too much scrutiny about what _really_ happened.  Unfortunately, they'll have plenty of opportunity to acquire new genetic samples while they're rebuilding.  As soon as their production goes back online, they can start making replacements of people at mass-production levels."

                "What is our new mission?" Rogue asked.  His voice-modulator was the same as the one he had in his old suit, but at his request, he had the tone of the voice sound more powerful and intimidating.  What sounded charming, even cute before, was a reverberating growl.

                "We bury them.  We can't just destroy their facilities, they'll just build new ones.  We have to discredit their research, show them that their successes are too dangerous to offset the possible rewards.  If they plan to replace politicians and CEOs, we make it look like their creations went berserk, making them useless.  If they create them as spies, we have to make it appear as if the spies were flawed, their intelligence faulty.  Even if they market them as toys for the rich, we have to convince, or fool their clients into thinking the toys aren't safe for children aged nine months...and up."

                "Sounds like a plan...except how are we going to finance this mission?  It's not like we can just walk back into a Marine base and fill out some requisition forms."  Jacob sighed.  "Supplies and weapons don't come cheap."

                "I think I've got a way to cover that."  Nathan tapped a button on the viewscreen and an ad for the UNREAL TOURNAMENT came up.  "Prize money."

                "Nate, mind if I ask a question?" Jacob asked neutrally.

                "Sure."

                "Have you completely lost it???" he suddenly exclaimed.  "Do you have any idea what kind of psychopaths and murderers show up in those tournaments?  They're animals!!"

                "Don't worry.  I can handle them.  Thanks to the Skaarj, not to mention the training I experienced just before I 'retired', I've got a shot at winning the prize money.  But I will need a crew..."  He looked up as the door hissed open, Diana walking into the conference room and sitting down.  "Hello, Diana."

                She sat down at the other end of the table.  "Nathan."

                "So, Diana...what's the score?"

                She looked at Nathan steadily and simply stated, "What do you need?"

                Nathan considered bringing up how glad he was that she'd given up her self-pitying mood, but decided against it.  She wasn't the type to appreciate it.  "So you're in?"

                "Of course I'm in.  You'll all be chalk outlines without me."

                Jacob smiled.  "All RIGHT!"

                "Exultations and congratulations are in order!"  If Rogue was capable of facial expressions, Nathan knew he'd be smiling.

                "Alright, alright...let's get to work.  Diana, we need to get a sponsor for our team.  They won't let us in without one."

                "I'll have one for us within a week."

                "Good.  Okay folks...we need to get this show on the road.  Jacob, I need you to get that ship up and running.  We won't be able to do anything until we can get off this planet...and I don't know about you guys, but I am bored _stiff_ by the scenery here.  I'd rather face down armed lunatics than stay here another minute."

                "You got it, boss."

                "Class dismissed."  Nathan turned off the holoprojector and stood up as the conference room emptied out.  He went over to the desk, taking out a cigarette and put one in his lips.

                As he lit it, he heard Diana's voice behind him.  "Those things'll kill you."

                Nathan turned, smiling a little as he saw Diana lounging in one of the chairs.  Jacob and Rogue were nowhere to be seen.  "I hope I live long enough for these things to kill me."

                Diana chuckled.  "You don't think much of your chances in the arena, do you?"

                "On the contrary, I think I can whip any combatant there."  He took a draw on the cigarette and grimaced.  "God, I hate these cheap military cigs.  No, what bothers me is trying to stop the production of the synths.  I think there's too many ways to misuse..."  He stopped as he remembered that he was in the same room with a synth.  "Does it bother you when I talk about this subject?"

                "It used to...but it gets easier.  I had the chance to take a look at the files you stole regarding synths.  According to the files, synths are capable of feeling all the emotions of the donors of the DNA templates.  It's not just an illusion...I can tell you that from experience, believe me."

                "All the more reason why synths can't be exploited."  Nathan took another draw, then scowled at the bitter taste and ground it out on the metal table.  "I think I just quit smoking."

                "Nathan..."

                He turned and Diana was a lot closer, only a few feet away.  "Yes?"

                "...I still remember you."  She looked down slightly.  "I remember leaving you...before you left me.  I remember why.  I remember John.  I remember what he taught me, just before I...died."  Diana looked up at Nathan, her expression desperate.  Nathan realized with some alarm it was the same look she wore when she realized he was leaving, when he almost turned back, change his mind...but it had been too late.  He had seen that look through the porthole of the shuttle leaving her, and he had gone.  "Nathan, I need you to tell me something, and be honest, please."

                "Alright, Diana."

                "Promise me, Nathan...this is important."

                "I promise."

                Diana walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm, waiting for him to pull away.  He didn't.  She took a deep breath, then said, "Nathan...do you think you could ever feel for me...what you felt for Aida?"

                Nathan looked at her for a few moments.  "Do you want it sugar-coated, or right between the eyes?"

                ".......hit me."

                Nathan smiled a little.  "Diana, the last time I saw Aida, I was still in love with her.  But she didn't want anyone.  If you remember her, you remember that, don't you?"  Diana nodded guiltily.  "Well, I never stopped loving her, but I stopped knowing her.  It's been years since I saw her, and I don't know how much she's changed...how much you've changed.  I really don't know who you truly are, and I think you're not too sure about that yourself.  I can't promise to love you...but I can tell you that I really want to find out about you, and see if maybe we can love each other.  But we've got to focus.  Survive now.  Do you think you can give it a little time to find out?"

                Diana looked at him for a long time, her expression neutral.  Finally she nodded, giving him a small smile that looked a little forced.  "I can do that.  I suppose it was a little unfair of me to drop that on you like that, knowing what I am..."

                "Now, don't start, it's not like that..."

                "Isn't it?  Let's not fool ourselves.  It's not fair what happened, but that's the way it is.  But at least there's hope, right?"  She smiled a little more and turned, walking out of the room.  Nathan watched her go, then shook his head.

                _Why do I feel as if I completely augered in on that one?_  He sighed and sat down, then went over the files on synths, trying to make sense of the research, trying to pick up anything he'd overlooked.

                He studied the research completely unaware of Diana, sitting on part of an engine dumped in the middle of the hall just thirty feet from the door to the conference room.  She was obscured for the most part by the door, but Diana could see him clearly through the small window in he door. 

                She watched him for hours before going back to her own room.

                "Come on, you old whore!" Jacos swore as he primed the main engines again.  The ship stubbornly refused to lift off.  Rogue sat in the pilot's chair, twiddling his thumbs.  Nathan looked back at Jacob while Diana lay back in her acceleration chair, gazing at the ceiling.

                "What's wrong?" Nathan asked.

                "What's wrong is this tub is older than I am and she's being a stubborn bitch, 'atsall!"

                "Perhaps I should get out and push?" Diana suggestedly unhelpfully.

                "Maybe you _should_...!"

                Nathan sighed.  "Don't make me give you both a time out."

                Jacob primed the engines again, hearing them belch, cough, give an unsteady rumble, then die out with a low whine.  He took a deep breath, then swore a blue streak.

                "Such language, I declare," Diana smirked, doing her best Scarlett O'Hara impression, "my delicate ears are unused to such coarse language.  Ah may faint."

                "Then do it already and shut the hell up!"  Jacob kicked the console's base three times viciously, then primed the engines again.  This time, the engines sputtered, then roared into life. "Hahahhh!" he yelled triumphantly as the ship moved free of dry dock and headed out over the desert dunes, gaining altitude all the time.  "I think we got us a ride!"

                "Fortuitously so.  Paroxyisms of pleasure greet me at being in vacuum once more."

                "Couldn't have put it better myself."  Nathan looked at his control panel.  "Okay...we've cleared the upper ionosphere.  Take us out of this start system, full sublight speed.  Find us a jumpgate."

                "Aye, aye, sir!" Rogue said happily, obviously overjoyed at the prospect of a new adventure.  As the alien piloted the craft away from the planet, Nathan turned to Diana.

                "What have we got for possible sponsors?"

                "Not many.  They like that we can supply our own tech and equipment, but we're unknowns and that makes them nervous.  However, we did get some offers from other teams."

                "Sound 'em off."

                "The first one was from a relatively-high profile team sponsored by the Korevsky Mining Corporation.  They call themselves the Phantoms."

                "What's their record been?"

                "Superior.  Problem is, they've been known for excessive use of force, making the players of other teams suffer deliberately."

                "Pass.  I just left one group of sadists, not planning on joining another.  What else we got?"

                "Another team, the Raptors.  Flawless win record, but no one wants to be a rookie on their team."

                "Why not?"

                "Rookies have a nasty habit of being made pointmen on suicide attacks.  Casualty rate is the highest in the League."

                "Tempting, but no."

                "My, aren't we picky."  Diana smiled, turning the sheet over.  "Here's something.  The Vampires.  New team, up-and-comers.  Some talent, pretty good survival rate.  They could probably use you, Nathan."

                "Who's sponsoring them?"

                "Oddly enough, it's not a company.  It's a lone individual.  Leroy Bidwich...this guy's pretty well off, but not quite in the range of the industrialists that usually sponsor the teams."

                "What's his angle?" Jacob asked with renewed interest.

                "He's a dreamer, an idealist.  According to an interview he gave last year, he said, 'I always wanted to be a part of the competition, but I didn't have the background to be part of a team.'  Seems a little weird, considering what happens to the players."  Diana looked up.  "What do you think, Nathan?"

                "Sign me up for the Vampires."

                "Nathan," Diana interjected, "we still have five pages' worth of possibles."

                "Trash 'em.  This team is perfect."  Nathan smiled.  "They're desperate, they won't ask too many questions...and I think we can help them out.  People love to root for the underdogs."

                "Or in this case, the Undead." Rogue said, a hint of amusement in his modulated voice.  "Seems fitting."

                "All agreed then?"  Nathan looked around.  "Good.  Set up an appointment with the owner...we've got a team to join.  Jacob, check the armory, see what we have to offer as far as gear.  We also need to sign on as crew."

                "And the synth scenarios?"

                Nathan considered.  "Those will have to wait until we get established.  For now, let's concentrate on survival."

                "Aye, aye."  Diana stood up, heading for the comm room.  As she left, Rogue walked over to Nathan and sat down next to him.

                Nathan still found it eerie.  The suit Rogue wore to get around looked a great deal more streamlined and reacted with an agility very close to human norms.  Unlike the old suit, which was more on the bulky side and only had the capacity for life-support and giving Rogue the ability to pilot spacecraft, the new suit was more limber, and moved with more grace.  Nathan fully believed that, if Rogue had the inclination, he might be able to use the suit to try out for the Terran Olympic Gymnastic Team.  Also, the suit was black, close to human height and weight, looking more like a human wearing an armored jumpsuit than an alien in an exo-suit.  Even the sensory unit, the "head", looked like a streamlined swoop-bike helmet.  "Nathan...I have a matter to speak with you about."

                "What is it, Rogue?"

                "We must tell John."

                "Rogue, we can't.  Telling John would jeopardize the mission.  The fewer people that know we're alive, the better."

                "Nathan...we owe it to him."  

                Nathan was taken aback by the steel in Rogue's tone, not expecting the mild-mannered alien to be so determined, almost driven.  "Rogue, listen.  Any one of us goes to look him up, especially considering he's with the military and the Colonel is probably watching him like a hawk, and we'll be spotted.  We can't risk it."

                "You mean, _you_ can't risk it."

                Nathan stared at Rogue.  "Mind explaining that?"

                "I may not be human, but I wonder if your motives aren't selfish.  As it is now, someone you care about deeply is now completely dependent upon you.  By circumstance alone, you are both bound together.  Were she to encounter John again, that bond would not be as certain to strengthen, would it?"

                Nathan stared at Rogue in shock.  "Are you seriously telling me I WANT to isolate Diana so I can get into her pants?"

                "Is it true?"

                "NO!!  It's not true and I resent the implication!" Nathan said angrily, but a part of his mind wasn't quite so outraged.  _Maybe you are.  Maybe you want her to depend on you._  "This isn't some sort of game!"

                The room went silent for a while...a _long_ while.  Jacob shook his head.  "Nate, easy...he didn't mean anything by it.  You know how he is, he was just curious, that's all."

                Nathan forced himself to ease up, calm down.  "I'm going to say this one more time for the nosebleed section: I am NOT trying to manipulate her that way."

                "Alright, Nate.  We'll try later, once we're not so far under the gun.  Right now, we need to work on our tactics and our formations.  We have to try not to look like a bunch of neophytes when it comes to arena combat."

                "Which we are

                "Point made, Rogue...but I've had enough close-quarters combat and small-unit tactics experience to make it look like we know what we're doing.  Unless there's anything else, let's get to work."

                The three sentients left the room and headed for the cargo bay.  As Nathan went downstairs, he was bothered by the concept that he was trying to take advantage of Diana.  

                What bothered him so much was how hard he tried to deny it...

                **TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
